As he spoke he tore off his apron, and got himself into his coat again with all possible speed.
"Bury the man at once!" he said as he left the room. A carriage awaited him at the door, and he drove off.
The royal messenger waited a moment and then he, too, walked away, and going down a narrow alley he entered a little wineshop by a back door, and throwing himself on a bench, exclaimed:
"I was just in time, Bobichel. A second later and Fanfar would have been no more!"
The hospital was now anxious to get rid of this useless body, and orders were given that it should be buried without delay. Gudel and his friends had bribed the functionaries.
All went smoothly, and in an hour the hearse was to take Fanfar away. But before this, a card was brought in to the governor of the hospital. On this card was the name of the Marquis de Fongereues, and in the corner of the glossy bit of pasteboard was a tiny sign, which signified that his visitor was especially recommended by the Society of which he was a member. He gave orders that the Marquis should be shown in at once.
Fongereues appeared, leaning on the arm of Pierre Labarre. The Marquis had suddenly grown old, his strength was gone, and his feet were as uncertain as those of a drunken man.
The governor rose to receive him. Fongereues tried to speak, but his voice died in his throat. He handed the governor an order from the minister, directing that the body of the man named Fanfar should be surrendered to the Marquis de Fongereues.
Our readers will notice that the promised million had already borne fruit in the granting of the first request made by the Marquis, who had laid aside his ambition and thought only of recovering the body of his son in return for the million.